


When the Knight Kneels for The Queen

by thesparrow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunk!Sherlock, Fluff, Gen, Murder, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock TV - Freeform, Sherlock meets his Match, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, The game is on, a bit of everything, case study, daddy Lestrade, drunk!ofc, moriarty is a babe, moriarty madness, two sociopaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:31:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesparrow/pseuds/thesparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither of them were very good at this sort of thing, and Greg wonders whether or not he's just made one of the biggest mistakes known to man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. starting point

**[1:15 pm, a cab somewhere in London]**

"You're a lot more house trained than he is. Sometimes you can come across as slightly normal, but him? There's no chance of that 'appenin." Lestrade told the girl sat next to him on the back seat of the cab.

"What about the other one? The one who does the writing?" She inquired, gazing out of the window.

London was a lot more distasteful than she had first imagined. But she supposed that all of the popular cities were, distastefulness came with the package it seemed.

"Oh yeah, he'll probably be there too. He's a good man is Watson. Puts up with a lot, he does. You'd get on with him fine." He answered.

"I don't really care whether or not I get on with either of them."  The girl shrugged.

Lestrade sighed. Wondering how much damage he was creating by putting these two people together.

-

**[1:35 pm, 221B Baker Street]**

"The knockersslanted." She stated, frowning at the door.

"I think he does it on purpose."

Seconds after, the door was opened by an old woman who was most likely the landlady. Her face turned into a smile and a hand was raised in a welcoming motion.

"Come in dear, come in. Oh hello there, brought a friend have you Lestrade?" She said. The girl realised she was quite a cheerful woman, who cleaned things that didn't need to be cleaned.

She kept quiet as the woman and Greg talked, analysing the walls around her. The unusual decoration didn't bother her, it appeared quite homely, although it was behind on the times.

"Sherlock, we have guests!" The woman exclaimed as Greg turned and gave the girl a reassuring smile.

The girl walked into the space and noticed the feel of the room, relaxed yet undecided. Once Sherlock noticed the girl, she recognised he was giving her a once over, and she wondered what he'd find.

"Who's this?" John asked looking between the two newcomers. He was wearing a sweatshirt that he wife wasn't keen on, but he wore it anyway to try and prove to himself that he still made his own decisions.

"This is Iris Fenson, she's the possible roommate I was talking to you about, she's just started work as my trainee but hasn't got a place to stay, so I thought this might be alright for her." Lestrade said leaning slightly against the wall.

"Oh right, well I'm John, this is Mary" the woman nodded and smiled. A cat lover, the girl noticed, they would get along fine.

He pointed to the woman who allowed them into the building "that's Mrs Hudson, and that's Sherlock." He finished, smiling. She saw the unease in his eyes when he looked at the tallest male in the room. Scared of how he would react.

"It's nice to finally meet you all." She announced bowing her head slightly, a habit she enjoyed.

"Finally?" Sherlock said whilst squinting his eyes slightly.

She nodded. "I've heard about you from Greg, and I read Johns blog of course."

"Yeah, you're her second favourite sociopath Sherlock." Lestrade tutted.

This made Sherlock turn, and he inspected the girl a little more. He cocked his head. "Who's the first?" He asked, aiming his question at the girl instead of Greg.

She smiled.

"Myself."

Their eyes widened slightly, not suspecting that in the slightest.

"So how'd you like the place? Are you going to be moving in or would you prefer to get to know each other first?" Sherlock said sitting down in the chair he regularly used. A habit, she noted.

"Well you know what I want you to know about me, and I can always learn about you along the way. If you wouldn't mind I'd love to move in." She smiled.

The others in the room had subconsciously moved backwards, as if trying to get away from a battle that was brewing at the surface. They had looked at Greg accusingly, worried about what this situation would do, and the chain reaction that would follow.

'What I want you to know' stuck in Sherlocks mind. He suddenly felt an emotion he scarcely ever felt, uncertainty. His deductions he had previously made wavered slightly, he realised this appearance could be false.

He realized that she was someone who knew what she was doing. He realized how she had cured his boredom by just walking into the room.

He realized, that the game was on. 


	2. it's a quite possibly a high chance that it's a maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't flirting, brilliant minds don't flirt.

**[saturday, 7:08am, 221B Baker Street]**

Yesterday, after it was decided the girl was to move into Johns old space, Watson had offered to help bring up her suitcases. The group were surprised to hear that the small carry on bag she was holding contained all of her belongings.

Mrs Hudson excused herself and went to tidy things that most likely didn't need to be cleaned, and shortly after the married couple left for their own home.

Sherlock apologised, but he had business to attend to at the morgue. She had told him it was fine, but swallowed down her disappointment of not being able to tag along.

Sleep didn't come easily, she lay on the bed for hours, and when she finally did get some sleep she woke up a few hours later.

Deciding it wasn't to be, she made herself a cup of tea, and smiled when she saw the thumbs in the fridge whilst retrieving the milk.

Sherlock walked in on Iris curled up on the chair, reading a book of poetry that he himself had read when trying to understand what all the hype was about. (He didn't of course, it was meaningless in his mind)

"You like poetry?" He asked noticing the tea cup on the floor, he wondered what she'd say about the thumbs.

"That depends on the poem. And yourself?" She returned looking up at her new roommate.

His hair was messy, cheekbones were sharp, and his pajamas were awful. He still looked good though, and Iris thought that maybe that might be the biggest problem she'd have to face whilst living with the man.

"No. Poetry writers are too lazy to write a full story and think that other people care about their incessant whining about how sad their lives are." He replied opening the news paper and sitting in the chair opposite.

She hummed, agreeing with him in a way. "I bet I could find a few you'd like."

"I'd like to see you try."

"So, do you have any hobbies other than experimenting with body parts and playing the violin?" She started after a few moments silence, trying to make conversation.

"Are you bothered about the thumbs? Sometimes I have a head in there depending on the experiment."

"No not really, although if you can I'd like some notice before you do because I'd like to move my lunchbox." She smiled. He smiled too, but she couldn't see it from behind the newspaper.

"They're my only hobbies I suppose. What about you?"

She sighed. "sometimes I do sudoko and sometimes I go mute. I'm not very interesting."

He folded the newspaper down. "Now I'm sure that isn't true."

Chuckling she said "Sometimes I sit on benches and make fun of everyone that walks past."

He smirked, and for a moment envisioned himself sat beside her, laughing at the stupidity of others.

"I take it you're not a morning person"

"What makes you think that?" he said, shaking his head of the vision and putting the paper on the side table.

"I know a little about deducing."

"And I deduce that you know more than you're letting on." He replied just as quickly, placing his hands like an evil mastermind and resting them at his lip slightly.

"Maybe. I still need lessons though. Maybe you could teach me sometime?" She added.

Iris cringed at herself and her attempt at making a friend. It sounded a little like flirting, and she wondered if she had meant it that way subconsciously.

He stopped the drumming of his fingers.

"Maybe."


End file.
